


This Love Will Be The Death Of Me

by j_gabrielle



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: M/M, Nipple Play, Non-Penetrative Sex, PWP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-27
Updated: 2013-05-27
Packaged: 2017-12-13 03:08:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/819266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/j_gabrielle/pseuds/j_gabrielle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Will is spread out against black satin sheets like a feast of the finest degree. Naked, erect and on precipice of euphoria with only the words of his lover to hold him back from coming. "</p>
            </blockquote>





	This Love Will Be The Death Of Me

**Author's Note:**

> I... Apologise for this.
> 
> But nipple play is a kink. And I hope this did it justice...

Hannibal lets the long legs wrapping his waist to settle. A mess of brown curls spill on the pillow that Will is resting his head on; every single muscle in the man’s body taut in anticipation of what is to come.

His exploring hand eventually comes to rest on Will’s navel, and he smirks as he scratches his belly button with a manicured nail. With his other hand, Hannibal reaches to cup his cock, lightly brushing his thumb against his slit. Will is unable to hide the shiver that courses through his body and the motion causes him to rub ever so slightly against Hannibal’s suit pants. They’re beyond saving now, but he cannot bring himself to regret the come stains and lube streaks drying on the tailored cloth.

Not when Will is spread out against black satin sheets like a feast of the finest degree. Naked, erect and on precipice of euphoria with only the words of his lover to hold him back from coming.

If Hannibal were a more honest man, he would admit that having Will like this is more intoxicating than the headiest Chianti. Briefly, he toys with the idea of making Will scream, of taking him against the glass windows of his practice and making it into a show for Crawford and his hounds. Will would be mindless from the hyper sensations—he would make sure that every touch on Will’s skin would be unbearable, that Will would respond despite telling him to stop…

Soon, he promises himself, lightly pinching the space of where hip meets thigh. Will would make an _excellent_ lover yet.

“Please…” The poor thing begs, arching slightly, catching the light with the thin sheen of sweat on his chest. “Please… Just do it…”

Hannibal leans down, pressing his mouth to Will’s left breast, gently biting down and flicking his tongue over the impressions of his teeth on skin. Tilting his head, he sighs, taking and suckling the pebbled nipple none too gently, relishing the symphony of Will’s soundless scream.

Almost there.

“Such a beautiful boy… _My_ beautiful boy made just for me.” Hannibal murmurs, and there is no mistaking the pride in his voice. Dragging the palm of his hand upwards, he lays it over Will’s breastbone. “I would have your heart.”

The cock in his other hand throbs at his words, the trickle of pre-cum oozing from the head. “There is much I would like to do to you.” He continues, “But perhaps they may not be suitable yet for you.” Hannibal’s normally perfect hair is in casual disarray as he moves to Will’s nape, again sinking his teeth down in soft yielding flesh. He is determined that his lover will not leave this bed without a vivid necklace of angry bites as a reminder of who owned his body, mind and soul.

Will makes another desperate arch of his body, hands finally letting go of their death grip of the covers. He buries them in Hannibal’s hair, clinging desperately.

“Whatever it is you want, whatever you need… Do it to me. You can have them all, just _please…_ ” He sobs.

Hannibal hums contentedly, dropping slow kisses on stubble jaw line. Will ruts against him, mindless for release. In retaliation, Hannibal tightens his hold on Will’s cock, causing the younger man to scream soundlessly. “Tsk.” He clucked his tongue disapprovingly. “I’d expected better from you.”

Will cries when Hannibal releases him, reaching under to prod against the still wet hole.

“Hush now, my dear.” Hannibal coos, “I need you to focus now. Can you do that?” Will struggles to inhale some precious air, but when he does, he opens his eyes to nod shakily.

“C-Can I touch myself?” Will gasps.

Hannibal contemplates his request before bringing his hands to fit against the handprint bruises on Will’s bony hips. “No. I want you to put your hands back on the covers.” He waits until Will has complied before continuing, “You may scream.”

He returns his lips to Will’s nipple, roughly nibbling and soothing with his teeth and tongue. Every single second his poor nipples were under his ministrations must be simultaneously pain and pleasure. Hannibal alternates between them. He leaves marks like macabre bouquets of little roses around the swollen aureoles, thinking that he could write sonnets describing their perfection. Privately, he promises himself that he will explore just how far he could push Will just by playing with his breasts.

“Hannibal!” Will cries, rubbing himself against the bulge in Hannibal’s pants. It hurt to keep it caged, but Hannibal wants tonight to be about Will, wants to savour the rare delicacy that is Will Graham uninhibited. “Hannibal…” He moans a little later, pushing his chest up against Hannibal’s clever mouth.

“I…”

A strangled moan and Hannibal feels the spread of warmth and slick against his abdomen. Will falls back against the bed, limp and languid in the afterglow. Hannibal give the soft flesh in his mouth another hard suck, licking over his handiwork when he lets go.

“Are you alright?” He whispers tenderly, prying Will’s legs from his waist. Will does not answer, but pulls him down for a clash of teeth and lips which Hannibal tries to gentle as much as possible.

“Yes I am, so stop fretting.” Will grins sleepily, hand wandering downwards to hold Hannibal’s erection through the front of his pants. Turning onto his front, he thrusts his hips upwards, baring his hole. “Take your time.”

Hannibal feels a skip in his heartbeat at the sight of his Will willingly offering himself up to him. And smiles.

 

 

 

[end.]


End file.
